


Is that my robe?

by shippingthebullshit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, John missing Sherlock, Kissing, M/M, Omegle Roleplay, Reunion, Sherlock's a little OOC but dat's okay bc he's adorable, foldable John, moping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingthebullshit/pseuds/shippingthebullshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's mopey and missing Sherlock on Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is that my robe?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've literally just written this on Omegle with the sweetest person in the whole world, she was adorable!:) It's basically just fluff. Like, all it is.

‘It’s the times like these’, John thinks to himself, curled into Sherlock’s chair, Sherlock’s robe wrapped tightly around him, ‘that I truly actually miss him.’ He’s been sleeping in Sherlock’s bed for some time now; since he’d realized that Sherlock was truly and really gone. It’d hit him like a ton of bricks and he hadn’t been the same since. He wishes that Sherlock could be here for Christmas-- Sherlock had loved Christmas--, though it was mostly because John didn’t want to be alone for Christmas. He’s getting ready to go to bed, having finished his tea and turned the Christmas tree off, when a knock comes to the door. He thinks nothing of it-- must only be Mrs. Hudson dropping off her yearly present-- and shouts out to her: “Just leave it outside, I’ll fetch it in the morning!” Trekking back to his new bedroom, he crawls into bed, completely bare as he snuggles against Sherlock’s feather duvet.  
There was a long pause, continued by the soft thudding of John walking. Sherlock slowly opened the oh so familiar door, stroking the bullet hole in which Edwards, serial killer had made. Silently, Sherlock walked into 221B, his eyes scanning the flat. Barely anything had changed. Everything was still in place, his violin, his chair...His skull. He needed to be careful, cautious. He made his way to his bedroom, the door was slightly ajar. Where he could hear soft breathing. He was almost there- until he placed his left foot on the broken, loud floorboard.  
John jerked away, panting when he heard the floorboard creak. His heart racing, he grabbed the gun he kept hidden in his bedside table and pulled the robe on. Moving to the door stealthily, he hid behind it, glancing out. The figure that was hiding behind the wall was tall, almost as tall as Sherlock had been. For a moment, John let himself hope-- If only? No. He took a deep breath and looked out, moving along the wall. "Show yourself!" He called out, voice shaky  
Slowly, Sherlock placed his palms up- a sign of surrender. "John." he whispered.  
John paused and dropped his hand. It couldn't be. There was no way. Sherlock was, was /dead/. "Sherlock?" He choked out with a sob, covering his face.  
" I'm back, John." he stated quietly, observing John, his blogger.  
John gulped and rushed to Sherlock, wrapping his arms around him, expecting to fall through them at any moment and wake up like he had so many times before. "God, Sherlock. You're here. You're actually /here/." He whispered into the man's chest. "You incorgible /twat/. How could you /do/ that to me?!" He screeched out when he realized the man was real.  
" I'm so sorry. I had to..." he whispered, clutching at John.  
"Sherlock. I thought you were /dead/. /DEAD/." He coughed out, burrowing into Sherlock's chest as he tightened his grip. He sank to the floor, pulling Sherlock with him. "You couldn't have told me that you were, I dunno, /ALIVE?/" He whispered, appaled.  
" I couldn't, John. I wanted to, I really did. I had to do what I did..." he replied.  
"But.. Sherlock... I.. I had to suffer? I couldn't help you? At all?" He whimpered, looking up at Sherlock tearfully. "I... God Sherlock, you're actually /here/."  
" Watching you going through...hell. It was unbearable... I'm here now, John. I'm staying." he whispered, pulling John closer.  
"Don't ever do that to me again," John gritted out, slapping Sherlock's stomach. He realized that he was still clutching the gun and he slid it to the chair, intending to deal with it later. "Do you understand? Never."  
" I won't...I'm so, so sorry.... I had to do it! What choice had I? You were a target, John! I couldn't allow you to be hurt." Sherlock said, a fierce look stretched across his face, his eyes fixed on John.  
John blinked. "You... You did it... Because... Because of me?" He murmured out, pointing at himself.  
" Yes. They...I had to jump otherwise they would have harmed you along with Lestrade and Mrs Hudson." he whispered. He wrapped his arms tightly around John, never wanting to let go.  
John let out a broken sob and buried his head into Sherlock's neck. "You and your bloody hero complex," John whispered fondly.  
Sherlock frowned. " John you mean so much to me. I wasn't exactly going to allow them to hurt you was I?" he asked, rolling his eyes. He thought it was obvious how much John meant to him.  
John huffed. "Must have not meant enough to you for you to let me know you weren't dead," he muttered, more to himself than anything.  
" Well I had to wait for a while, let it all die down. They needed to see that you genuinely believed I was gone." Sherlock replied softly.  
John scoffed. "Bloody well should have. Two years, Sherlock. You were gone for /two years/."  
" I'm so sorry..."  
He sighed, wrapping his arms tighter around Sherlock. "I'm just glad you're home. I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured into Sherlock's neck. "Never thought I'd get to tell you that--" He broke off and took a deep breath, pulling away to look Sherlock in the eyes. "That I love you," he whispered, searching Sherlock's face for any sign of emotion.  
Sherlock stared down at John. Silence fell. " I love you too, John. So much." he replied.  
"No, Sherlock, I... I'm /in/ love with you," John murmured.  
"That is what I am trying to tell you, John" he answered, puzzled.  
John gulped. "Re-really?" He whispered.  
" Of course. I'd be lost without my blogger." Sherlock smiled as he held John in his arms.  
John smiled and placed his hands on either side of Sherlock's face. "Sherlock. I'm going to do something. And I'll ask you kindly not to freak out, okay?" John whispered, already leaning in.  
"O-Okay..."  
Gulping, John leaned the rest of the way in, pressing a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips before growing braver and deepening it a bit.  
Sherlock understood. He gripped John's hair tightly, kissing him fiercely before stopping suddenly.  
"John?"  
John pulled away quickly. "Did... did I do something wrong? Sherlock I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that--" He stopped at Sherlock's finger against his lips. "Ehsh?" He whispered, word morphed because of Sherlock's finger.  
"Is that my robe?!" Sherlock asked, puzzled.  
John gulped and smiled nervously. "Um... Maybe.." he murmured, blushing.  
Sherlock smiled, continuing from where they left off. “Good,” he whispers back.


End file.
